


There is breath in my lungs, blood in my veins, but I am not alive

by kingslayersrogue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A roller coaster of mismatched emotions, Alternate Universe, Bellabby, Coalition is North America, Descriptions of war, Different Apocalypse, Disappearance, Emotional Trauma, F/M, Gun Violence, Healing, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I don't know history so I make up the future, I might screw this up, I promise it's not all bad, I revise my earlier statements, I wrote this because I'm a hoe for military fics, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm also not ashamed of this, Inspired by American political drama, Interview, Invasion, It's Okay, It's heavy on the angst but still balanced, Journalism turned healing, Kidnapping, Kinda was born that way, Memories, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Post-War, Probable killing, Recovery, SO, Some OC death, Some fluff too, Somewhat first person, Therapy-ish, There will be a happy ending, Violence, War, War drama is my thing, hopefully happy ending, how's it going?, in a platonic sense, mental and physical, physical injury, reconnecting, worst case scenario, you're here for Kabby anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-09 16:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11672571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingslayersrogue/pseuds/kingslayersrogue
Summary: “Some people say that this was the war to end all wars. The Coalition’s greatest victory, a true testament to the strength of the country, it’s enduring soundness and perseverance through adversity. The people who say those things, I don’t think half of them actually knew what happened. I may not know firsthand but I sure as hell know not to glorify the deaths of nearly a billion people; ‘rebels’ or not.As for Kane no, I don’t think he’s the hero, I think he’s the victim who the government owes a pretty big fucking apology. Feel free to quote me on that one.” - Bellamy Blake, Executive Press Director.------Or the one where Kabby is engaged and the Coalition is on the verge of war and they don't have enough soldiers. Marcus is kidnapped and forced into a brutal training camp where his entire self is stripped down and built back up as a ruthless leader and efficient killing machine. Who essentially, stops all of North America from being invaded by its enemy nations. (Surge) Now with the war over and both their ghosts still hanging over their heads and haunting them. Will one of the people they hate most (in a general occupation oriented sense) be able to help them start actuallylivingagain?





	1. “One day he just didn’t…..he was just..gone.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one might be all over the place with ridiculous structure and probably highly inaccurate legal and medical facts but feel free to correct me on _anything_.  
>  Also because of that crazy structure, I will have a marking system, 
> 
> #: in front of a dialogue is Bellamy talking  
> /\/\/\/\: separates memory from interview (along with center aligned italicised text)

_What you are about to read are excerpts from the interviews of Dr. Abigail Kane and her husband, Commander Marcus Kane. The top performer in the most elite of the Coalition’s forces. The contents of this interview are accurate retellings and first-hand accounts of the years before, during, and after the 10 years war against Surge forces._

 

_The events described in these interviews contain material that is graphically violent, and possibly troubling for some. Viewer discretion is advised._

 

[ **Author’s Note** ]

 

 

> _“Some people say that this was the war to end all wars. The Coalition’s greatest victory, a true testament to the strength of the country, it’s enduring soundness and perseverance through adversity. The people who say those things, I don’t think half of them actually knew what happened. I may not know firsthand but I sure as hell know not to glorify the deaths of nearly a billion people; ‘rebels’ or not._
> 
>  
> 
> _As for Kane no, I don’t think he’s the hero, I think he’s the victim who the government owes a pretty big fucking apology. Feel free to quote me on that one.” -_ _Bellamy Blake, Executive Press Director_ _._

[ **End** ]

 

[ **Observation-Day #1]**

 

 

> I have the recorder started before I even sit down, not willing to risk losing anything. It’s a plain room with a white armchair and couch, clean but unnervingly simple. _I hate it,_  but there’s nowhere else. So I tough it out and take my first look at the infamous Mr & Mrs.Kane.
> 
>  
> 
> She sits next to him, on that stark white couch with a hand on his arm whispering something to him. _He doesn’t react,_ it’s the first thing I notice about him. He’s catatonic, no other way to describe it. Well, I supposed robot with the batteries taken out would do but that’s just cruel.
> 
>  
> 
> Whatever she says to him, and I don’t think the words are the issue, he doesn’t give any sort of sign that he even heard her. I’m not even sure if he’s blinking. He just stares at a spot on the wall a few feet above my head while his wife makes soft circles on his hand with the pad of her thumb. It might even look like he was daydreaming something quite happy if it weren’t for the grim set line of his lips and painfully clenched jaw.
> 
>  
> 
> I feel sorry, but not for what he has become, _but for what could’ve been and what was lost._
> 
>  

[ **End** ]

-

I’ll be throwing in my notes in as the talk progresses, they’ll be my own personal interpretations and anything I feel is important that can’t be conveyed through the means of audio recording

B.B

-

 

She cuts me off before I can even part my lips, I already like her.

“Just so we’re clear if at any point I hear the words ‘I’m sorry it happened like this’ or ‘You’re so brave for dealing with this’ or ‘I thank you for your service, you did your country proud’ or anything like it, we’re getting up and never coming back, _is that understood?_ ”

#“Why on earth would I say _anything_ like that, that’s absurd and honestly beyond awful.”

This is the first time I shock her, the first, but not of many. I take it as a small victory.

“It’s what everyone says, it’s what everyone thinks. I can’t take it and he doesn’t deserve it.”

#“It’s not what I think, what I think is that this whole thing could have been avoided if our leadership could’ve gotten their heads outta their asses and done their job. That this is a shit fest thrown on humanity because we're too fucking stupid to figure things out and not rip each other apart.”

A tiny smile graces her face for just a fleeting moment, but it’s something. I’m told this woman’s smile isn’t a common creature.

“That’s...new.”

#“What?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I’m disheartened to say that I perfectly understand what she means.

#“Well, I’m hoping that if I don’t royally screw this up, it’ll be your last.”

The muscles in her hand flex as she squeezes her husband's hand tighter. It’s a small almost imperceptible gesture but it screams a thousand things. _Hope_ being the loudest.

“We’d like that.”

#“Then let’s begin.

_We start with the day it all began, that’s what she calls it, not ‘the worst day of my life’ or ‘the day I lost everything’ just the day it all began because I don’t think it’s over._

“One day he just didn’t…..he was just... _gone.”_

His head pokes into the bedroom, smiling at her without any reason. “What are you staring at?” She asks rolling her eyes and shuts her book to glare suspiciously at her fiance. “ _Y_ _ou.”_

 _“_ Why.”

“Because you're beautiful.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and call him a hopeless romantic, noticing he looked more ready to leave than climb into bed with her like he normally would at this hour. “Where do you think you’re going, mister?” He crosses the room and bends down to print a kiss on her forehead, it’s nearly 9 at night and he never goes out this late without her. “I left some stuff at the library and I want to get it before the off day.” She lets him go with one last kiss, disappointment at not getting to snuggle into his warmth and fall asleep shining on her face.

It’s at least a twenty-minute drive and he’ll probably end up stopping at the corner cafe on his way there which means it’ll be another hour until he’s home and she can actually fall asleep. Deciding moping around and pouting wouldn’t make the time pass any faster she picks her book back up and sits.

45 minutes, she expects it _._

An hour, she frowns but turns another page.

An hour and a half, she worries, but holds out.

An hour and 45 minutes, she panics calling his cell but getting nothing.

Two hours, she gets in the car and drives after him. The roads are eerie quiet this late at night and she’s on the verge of tears. He would’ve called if he was in trouble or just incredibly late. _He would’ve called._ She isn’t able to think of a rational explanation for this so her mind throws her into the most painful endings she can think up. She tries his cell again but it goes to voicemail _, twice._

She’s shaking and everything’s gone hazy when she pulls up, the parking lot is filled with flashing red and blue lights. There are no firemen, no paramedics, no shouting, just a horde of patrol cars. And one very distant Abby who seems to have slipped away from the world and just stands there. _Lost._

She knows the girl who runs the cafe, _Sarah_ her name is _Sarah._ She likes Sarah, she always gives her an extra pastry or treat whenever she visits and knows exactly how she likes her drinks. She’s also the one who drags her away from the commotion and crowd of officers searching through his car to sit on the curb.

She looks scared and her eyes are red and puffy which puzzles Abby. Until she speaks and all the jagged edges of the world click back into place, crushing her between them in the process. “I saw it, I’m sorry, I saw it and I couldn’t stop it, I’m sorry.”

“I watched it and I couldn’t…..they took him, _I’m sorry.”_

_I cut her off gently, this is important and I need every bit of detail she can give me. We pause and I pray I don’t overstep my bounds._

#“I need you to, if you can, describe _exactly_ how you felt in this moment, as clearly as possible.”

“I’ll say first off I wasn’t feeling pain, that came later. If I had to narrow it down I’d say there was a lot of fear. Fear for where my life would go, fear for what would happen to him, the fear of not being able to get him back. There was a lot of fear, but there was also a lot of _why._ Just  _why_ him, he didn’t have any problems with anyone. Didn’t gamble didn’t fight, he didn’t have any enemies. I didn’t figure out the why for a long time. The last one that comes to mind in a streak of self-loathing, that maybe if I had made him stay and just forget about the stupid jacket that none of this would’ve ever happened.”

There’s a far off look in her eyes and I can tell a lot of those same emotions are stirring inside her. My thoughts slip from the task at hand and to my sister, this very well could’ve been her. The thoughts bring forth such a deep sense of fear that I barely repress a shudder. It’s most likely only a tenth of what she feels and felt.

#“This is going to sound strange _but do you still have said jacket?”_

She looks like she wants to laugh and at this point, I haven’t figured out if that’s a good or bad thing. Though the levity fades fast, as she glances at the man next to her, seemingly settling herself back into harsh reality.

“It used to be his favorite jacket….he won’t wear it now, too much bad energy.”

_I just nod and let her get back to the memory._

“They took him, _I’m sorry,”_ Sarah says, giving her shoulder one last squeeze before walking back into the shop. A cop comes up and holds Marcus’ ID and driver’s license in front of her, asking if she was related. Still disoriented, she just gives a sad look and holds up her left hand, highlighting her engagement ring. She gets a sympathetic look from the officer before all his belongings are taken off for evidence processing. At least that’s what the next officer says, _she’ll get them back eventually._

At one point a nice lady helps her into her car and asks where she lives. Her voice is soft and gentle, like explaining something new to a child. Abby wishes it would relax her, _his voice always relaxed her,_ but she’s wound tight as a spring and doesn’t even hear her until probably the fourth or fifth time her name is called. “What?”

“I asked where you lived, so we can get you home.”

“I uhm… we…. I-I can’t remember.” The officer sighs and turns the keys in the ignition making the car rumble to life. It takes some digging and an ungodly amount of concentration but somehow she ends up back in her own bed. Her much too big bed with sheets that still smell like them.

She sleeps on the couch that night, and many nights after that.

/\/\/\/\

“The next month after that night is a giant blur, I vaguely remember my mom and a lot of my friends coming in and checking on me. Making sure I was still breathing and making sure I ate something.”

#“You were in shock.”

“I was in denial. I didn’t believe it, my brain kept telling me he was going to walk in the door and kiss me hello like he always did but that never happened.”

I’m about to ask her when she 'it all came crashing down' but the timer rings, we’ve eaten up nearly two hours. longer than we really should’ve. I’ve got infinite questions but no time to ask them as she starts preparing to leave. Before she does, she decides to shock me with something I really didn't think I was going to hear.

“I like you, you know the right questions and how to ask them without being an asshole. I think we’ll be back tomorrow.”

The reporter in me wants to jump around and clap my hands but I keep it to a firm handshake and a comforting smile as Dr. Kane gently eases her husband from his chair and out into the hallway. Disappearing behind a white washed corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated whenever I feel because calenders don't exist  
> Comments and Kudos make me do the happy giggles. <3


	2. "Welcome to hell"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We’re starting with the moment he was removed from his life and put into another one, both of them still seem to be floating around somewhere deep in his soul._

Not even twenty minutes after they leave do I encounter my first problem. I have an insane amount of questions for Kane, some my own and some not. Except _he doesn’t talk_ , as far as I can figure out he doesn’t talk. I call every other agency the Kane’s attempted an interview with and he doesn’t talk. I look for videos of them (most of them are horrifying, paparazzi with cameras flashing lights and all, for someone with trauma issues it’s obviously hell) he speaks maybe once and it’s unintelligible. I let out a deep and heavy sigh, rubbing my hands over my face and _begging_  for an idea to just pop up out of nowhere.

I look around the room, it’s not exactly inviting. There’s a _what if_ forming in my mind, it’s probably insane, I’ll probably lose the interview but I really don’t think it matters. I’m not really in it for the story, I have plenty of leads. For me, this is about making something right. I may not be a licensed therapist but they’re never going to get close to normal if they keep everything bottled up, and I know neither of them has opened up. It’s plain as day in everything they do, the guilt and pain eating them up from the inside.

So I sit down, open my laptop, and learn everything I can about post-trauma care. What atmosphere would be best, tone of voice, type of questions, _even what I should wear?_ I get it all down and I’m not even sure how many hours it’s past quitting but the teams still there. (I only feel a smidge of guilt, they all could’ve left if they wanted.)

#“We have work to do...Murphy, you're on paint, take room 305 and make it look less like a psych ward, please. The rest of you help Miller get everything I have on this list and then meet me back here in an hour.”

By the grand old time of 2:57 in the morning room 305 went from an identical sparse white meeting room to a place you can truly relax. I myself almost fell asleep on the brand new couch I had Bryan drag in there. Hopefully, it’ll work.

“This is….new.”

I barely hide my panic, it doesn’t take my psych degree to discern she’s skeptical. The fact that she came in 45 minutes early to make sure the venue changes I told her about weren’t anything that could potentially cause damage doesn’t help either.

#“Good new or bad new? If it’s bad we can go back to the other room I just….I just thought you both would be more comfortable some place a little less….white.”

“It’s….why are you doing this, really? What’s your motive?”

#“You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone, anyone except my husband, everyone else has betrayed us at one point or another.”

#“If you really must know, I want to help you heal, the both of you, and that’s not going to happen if you keep everything inside. There’s another thing though, I want to teach people what happens when they don’t _think_ about what they’re doing. When they act like the only person in the world, I want to show the harsh reality and I want it to sting.”

She just nods and runs her hand along the back of the couch, most likely thinking through the words she wants to say.

“I didn’t take you as the type to become a shrink.”

#“The world fell apart and what I wanted to be didn’t matter anymore.”

There’s a long pause before she takes her eyes off the floor and guides them back in my direction, the faint glimmer of hope struggling its way to the surface.

“What’s your plan, because I’m positive I’m not the only one you want to get a scoop out of.

I bring out a folder of notes and her eyes bulge, _okay maybe I took a lot of notes but there’s nothing wrong with being thorough._

“This is a lot.”

#“This isn’t half.”

She laughs and I smile before digging into the folder. Unloading my main points and desired approach tactics. It takes a great deal of time and we’re still buried under mountains of paper when he walks in, tailed by Harper. “Mr.Kane is quite the strategist, I don’t think I’ve ever lost that hard in chess.”

“He’s always been great at chess, I used to tease him about it all the time.”

“You still do dear.”

I don’t mean to jump at the sound of his voice, I’m sure it looks awful and it’s incredibly rude but I really can’t help it. The carefree lightness of it scared the hell out of me. Mrs.Kane doesn’t seem phased at all, laughing and accepting the kiss her husband offers up. Slowly I extend my hand towards him, unsure if the contact is too much too fast.

#“I don’t think I properly introduced myself yesterday, I’m Bellamy Blake, press director.”

The smile on the man’s face shatters. Those grim set lips and locked jaw are so much more frightening when directed at you. It’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head, chilling me to the bone. The nicknames I heard passed around make a lot more sense now.

“You’re a reporter.”

I drop my hand instantly, he snarls the word and I flinch, but not because I’m hurt.

#“Yes, but not the kind you think. I don’t have a flashy camera and I’m not here to exploit you for money and a front page headline.”

He’s not convinced, his posture is still ramrod straight instead of the relaxed shoulder sag he possessed walking in. _I’ve put him on edge_ and if the glare the doctor is giving me is anything to go by I’m in deep shit.

I give him the same speech I gave her, maybe even a little better the second time around, and I nearly cry in relief when he relaxes. The amount of tension that I’d brought into the room was almost suffocating.

“You want my half of the first day don’t you.”

He’s not really asking, more of just putting what everyone’s thinking out in the open. I’m not surprised he’s straightforward.

#“Yes, that doesn’t mean you have to give it to me.”

I force as much sincerity as I can into the words, and it hits right on the mark. The little jolt of his body is barely there, but there nonetheless. I’ve already gotten more words out of him than most so I don’t hold my breath.

“You _really_ think talking about…. _it_ will make me better?”

How this man can go from the stern commander that could probably rip me in half with just his left hand to a man that looks like he wants nothing more in the world than to curl up in a ball and feel _nothing_ _._

#“I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t hurt….just take it slow, say what you feel you can and don’t worry about anything else. There are no cameras and anything you ask can be omitted from the recording."

He nods and I hold back a groan of relief, be it luck or fate, this man trusts me (or wants to heal) enough to talk and it's incredible. 

_We’re starting with the moment he was removed from his life and put into another one, both of them still seem to be floating around somewhere deep in his soul._

He smiles when he sees the light still shining brightly in the little cafe, Sarah’s always working late. Even when it’s clear no one will be coming in, she’s there. Marcus is about to smile and wave hi but she looks up at him her face contorts in fear. A silent scream tearing through the peace of the night.

Something hard and muscular curls around his throat, cutting off his air instantly. Panicking, he kicks back and throws his attacker onto the ground with surprising ease. The assailant chokes and sputters trying to move air back into his lungs. Just when he thinks he’s safe another body slams into his, using his startled gasp to roughly gag him.

Next thing Marcus knows at least four bodies are knocking him to the ground, binding his hands and dragging him towards a van. There’s a throbbing pain in his shoulder as he’s thrown into the _last_ available seat. He looks around to see at least 10 other faces staring back at him with the same wide frightened eyes as him. They all look similar in age and are all gagged and bound to their seats.

10 minutes, maybe more, pass before the vehicle stops and two frighteningly large men wrench them from the seats and _throw_ them into another car. As they drive away the ground shakes and the ear splitting report of an explosion rings out into the night.

He falls asleep eventually, he guesses somewhere around 3 AM. Only to be shoved once more from the back of the vehicle, only this time into an open yard surrounded by intimidating barbed wire fences and harsh spotlights.

_A military compound._

There were guards everywhere, patrolling the fences, drilling others, packing equipment. In the middle of the gravel and dirt yard stood the only person not bustling around. He stared at the men struggling to get to their feet with bound hands, a sort of pleased smile creeping onto his cracked lips. Light glinted off his chest, dozens of medals and awards hanging from his pressed and immaculate uniform. “Welcome to hell boys, welcome to hell.”

/\/\/\/\

His eyes are shining, very nearly spilling their contents in a slow tortured drip. This memory must be agony. What is more striking though, is the sense of awed horror on the doctor’s face, as if she had never…..

#“Dr.Kane, have you never heard this before?”

Her husband avoids her eyes, but not in shame.

“No….never.”

I can see him grow agitated, fidgeting and tapping his foot. Even the occasional glare thrown at me in the oppressive silence.

“It was and is my burden she doesn’t-”

#“Let me see your hand, the left one to be specific.”

He gawks at me, giving another little twitch of agitation. It’s the desired effect and serves my purpose perfectly when he extends his left hand towards me.

#“You see this ring....it’s a symbol of love, do you know what love entails Mr.Kane. What it means?”

The indignation and near rage that boils up inside him makes me want to squirm in my seat and I begin to question why exactly I’m choosing to piss him off.

“Of course I know what it means.”

I soften my tone heavily for this next part, less condescending and more understanding but not really sympathetic.

#“She wears a bonded ring, just like you, they are a set, a pair. They go together _just like you,_ and you know what things that go together do…..they share, they build off each other, they strengthen the other, carry an equal weight…….does any of this make sense?”

Abby scoots closer and pulls her husband’s hand into her lap, entwining their fingers and dropping her head to his shoulder. Trying to comfort him, or maybe ground herself, I can’t tell.

“I-I just….she was already hurting so much, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

And the dam breaks. The walls crumble and this man finally has the _true_ breakdown he’s most likely needed for years. Not one forced by flashing cameras or terrible heart racing nightmares, but one’s formed from _healing_ because you cannot heal first without pain.

He promises to be more open, to talk with his wife, let her help him and do his best not worry about _‘burdening her.’_ It’s Friday so they won’t be back until the next week, which gives me the weekend completely off.

I have no idea what to do with myself or the time. I work too much. I'll probably just sort through my notes, maybe try and find somewhere I can purchase a life.


	3. "It always ended up being you"

I learned very quickly that Kane has good days, and he has bad days. Yesterday was a good day….and well there’s only one other option so I think you know what today is.

Apparently, once the floodgates had been open it had been tremendously difficult to shut them and they’d both struggled through the night on little sleep and comforting touches.

His head is between his knees and he’s trembling, muttering incoherently and no one can seem to get through to him. Not the doctor, not me, not Harper.  Not anyone I expected at least. 

“Hey boss, I got that weird little tree you…..oh, sorry forgot you were with someone.”

The new voice clearly startles him, a large tremor shaking his frame, and he looks up, but not at Murphy. He stares directly at the small bonsai tucked in the crook of his arm. It puts an awed sort of look on his face, I'm greatly confused but equally curious. That is until I look at the doctor, she looks like I’ve just brought in a very large snake. Staring at the plant with blatant apprehension.

“Marcus honey, are you-”

“It looks just like it, _just like her’s.”_

He reaches out for the small pot and Murphy hands it over with a curious eyebrow in my direction. He sets it in his lap and just _stares,_ and trust me I’m as confused as you are right now.

“Did you do this purposefully?”

#“No, I had no idea, I don't even know what's going on but I’m rather glad that I did.”

There’s a reflective smile on his face as he thumbs one of the leaves tenderly. I don’t know the story behind the tree but it does give me an idea.

#“If you’re up for any sharing at all, why don’t we start with something pleasant _before_ the beginning?”

His mood shifts completely, turning with a wry grin to his wife, whose eyes give a warning as he laughs out loud at her expression. I’d normally be worried about such a quick turn around and the things it means but for now, I just let his smile blossom as his wife hits him playfully on the shoulder.

“You better not be thinking about sharing what I think you're thinking about sharing!”

“Darling, it was the start to my entire life how could I not?”

The next thing that happens is shocking, so shocking that I’m not sure young readers should continue. _Dr.Abigail Marie Kane starts pouting._ The scowl on her face and the pursing of her lips, I'm quite sure it’s one of the most amusing things I’ve ever seen.

“Because it’s _embarrassing._ ”

“Only for you, I rather enjoyed being randomly kissed by an outrageously beautiful girl.”

 _The day they met is what I later learn this little one is, and I can see why the doc may have been reluctant, it_ is  _a bit embarrassing._

_“Oh god, I don’t…..I didn’t... just...we...you…uh”_

Abby had never been much one for parties, but she knows Erin and if she leaves him her to fend for himself he’ll most likely end up blacked out on someone’s couch. _Again._ So, he stays glued to her hip the entire night, where she can monitor him and make sure he doesn’t drink too much. _(_ To be honest, she may have a really poor taste in friends or is just destined to be a mom friend because she always ends up adopting the ones that need constant supervision.) Things really didn’t get hard until his third glass of, well whatever the hell was the customary drink for whatever the hell kind of get together this was. “I knoow you like himm,” Erin slurs, pointing at the back of a tall boy with thick dark hair standing on the other side of the room. “You’re drunk, I don’t even know who that is.”

“Sawyer,” - _giggle-”_ He’s on the debate team, bio major, and you **like** him.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“But I’m right.”

“No.”

“ _Yess.”_

“No.”

“You _do!_ You’re totally blushing!”

“What bullshit has Steph been feeding you?”

“As-solutely _nothing!_ I figuredd this out all by myselff.”

She did blush that time because of course, _he was right,_ and even drunk Erin could see right through her weak dismissal. Sawyer was essentially the definition of tall, tan and handsome, and yes he was on the debate team. Always challenging her to better her arguments every time they went at it. In truth, she’d always loved a good challenge. Which is why she had a hopeless crush on him and god it was  _embarrassing._

“Don’t worry my dorky little chicken nugget, your savior has a _plan.”_ Abby takes a long sip of her drink, preparing for whatever nonsense her idiot friend cooked up. He does the same and the strong liquid most likely goes straight to his head. “Allright, here’s what ya gotta doo, yer gonna walk up, grab him by the jacket and ya have to kiss the livin daylights outta him.” His speech was steadily getting drunker and drunker, so much that Abby could hardly understand him, what did come across made her think he needed a psych eval. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh c’mon, If a….gurl like you came ‘n did that, I’d be pretty mitten.”

“You mean smitten?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, dodging deflection. “Come on Abs, _jus do itt.”_ She thinks long and hard, weighing the pros and cons heavily. She’ll be driving Erin home in 10 minutes anyway, and the thought of kissing Sawyer (if she pushes all the things that could go horribly wrong from her mind) is highly appealing. “Alright, but only to prove how horribly wrong this is going to go.”

Downing the rest of her drink, Abby uses the short walk to steel herself for the inevitable, and although she’s heard rumors about her feelings being reciprocated her hopes are not high.

She does exactly what Erin said, tapping his shoulder and gripping his jacket blindly before crashing her lips against his. What she doesn’t expect is for him to kiss her back, _hard._ His hands drift down to her waist, tugging her closer to his body as hers tangle in his too-long hair, marveling at how good it feels between her fingers. When she breaks apart and looks into his eyes, _she nearly screams._

“Oh god, I don’t…..I didn’t... just...we...you…uh” There’s a chorus of ooh’s from the surrounding party goers. The stranger she just kissed, _with his mussed hair and swollen lips,_ looks at her breathlessly confused but with a sort of giddiness in his eyes. “

/\/\/\/\

“I got her number afterward and took her out on a real date, it was all very _traditional_.”

Abby hits his shoulder again, before breaking and laying a soft kiss on his cheek. I almost don’t want to continue, just let them enjoy the happiness for as long as they can, but soon his smile fades, if just a bit, as the room adopts are more serious tone. 

“What next?”

#“Whatever you feel like, I don’t have a schedule.”

He nods and I can see him dredging up old memories and sorting through them, it takes only a moment but looks like it tires him immensely.

“It was a cruel thing when it happened, but now I think I might understand why they did it, but it doesn’t make it any less awful….You see, about two weeks into basic training, once most of the guys had either accepted they weren’t getting out or beaten until they couldn’t, they started playing these tapes….you could tell they hand picked them because they only showed us ones of guys in our unit. Interviews, pleas for their return, candle lit vigils, _everything._ I saw the family of every man in my unit _begging_ for their return. It was awful."

_“I can’t tell if this makes it better or worse. I just can’t tell.”_

“Who got it today?” The beatings were a daily occurrence, sometimes they made sense and other times the machine did it just because he liked it. So far Marcus had been one of the very few to avoid them, be it luck or favoritism, he didn’t know and didn’t care. The guys that got them didn’t leave med bay for a week if they were lucky. “Arty, Reynolds, Smith, Ray, Kaplan and Jack.” Lawrence was another one of the lucky ones, complacents, although loved by command, weren’t widely accepted by the other recruits. Who all wanted the hell out of dodge even if it meant death. They’d already had two kick it with their own knives.

The videos had started a few days ago during meal time. It was a random order, sometimes repeating sometimes not, but always painful. Watching one man after another break down watching their families mourn them. Wishing, _praying_ to get back to them and feel safe again. It hurt but survivable, Marcus had always been able to push down his emotions. It was a sad but necessary skill, now more than ever.

Except, days went by and it was harder and harder not hearing her voice, seeing her face, _the wait was excruciating._ Because as much as it would hurt to watch that video, he was desperate for just a little bit of his hope.

He never saw it, not one clip, and it crushed him.

He slammed his hands against the scratched metal table, nearly knocking his chair over and causing a scene. He leaves his half finished meal, it’s horrible anyway and he’s not hungry. All he wants is to sleep, or maybe clean his weapon, _yes_ , the monotonous task of disassembling and reassembling his mK3 would be the perfect thing to help alleviate the pure _heartbreak_ he was feeling.

 _A soldier doesn’t feel,_ he’d been told, and like it or not _he was a soldier now._

Except, as per usual, things didn’t go his way. He wasn’t paying attention, too consumed in his own emotions that he collided with someone. To make matters worse, he hadn't just knocked into another cadet, _he’d knocked into the fucking general._

 _“_ General Lasky, Sir.” He whips himself to attention, staring at a spot just above Lasky’s left shoulder and keeping his hand in a knife sharp salute, just like the SO taught him. He half expects a group of SO’s to descend and drag him out to the yard to become an example but the general just stares. For a moment, Marcus is terrified that he’s made a careless mistake and left his shirt untucked or didn’t press his collar but the general surprises him again, stepping back and allowing him to relax. “Can’t handle the entertainment today, Cadet?”

“No, Sir. I’m fine, Sir.”

“You’re obviously missing someone? Who is it, your mother, uncle? Who?”

“Fiance, Sir.” Marcus knows everyone is staring, watching and just waiting for someone to pistol whip him or punch _or something._ Lasky doesn’t _chit-chat_ with the Cadets, not unless he’s barking orders.

Lasky gives him another look before nodding, in _approval? dismissal?_ he can’t tell. “Is she beautiful? Your fiance?”

“ _Breathtaking_ , Sir.” Lasky smiles, actually smiles, and not the one he uses during beatings. It may even be genuine. “You love her?”

“With _every_ ounce of my being, Sir.” The general’s hand lands on his shoulder and he nearly flinches. “There’s only one thing to be done then.” 

“Sir?” 

“You go out, train hard, _become the best,_ and you win this war, _you._ Come back a hero, do your duty, so you can marry that girl.”

/\/\/\/\

“And that’s what I did, just not the way I planned it. I won, ended it all and well….here I am.” 

“Yes, here you are, with me. Just like you said you would.”

“For all the pain Lasky put me through, he knew exactly what to say to motivate me. It always ended up being you.”

She smiles and he kisses her knuckles. The amount of love between these two, after everything the hell that is man put them through, is staggering. I am awed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE** TELL ME SOMEONE CAUGHT THE FORWARD UNTO DAWN REFERENCE I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU DID.


	4. “He was just lying there, covered in it. It was all over me too… there was nothing I could do.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There are a few tears sliding down my face. What a gruesome, useless death. It’s disgusting._

I find that, as hard as the first memory is to conjure up and spit out, it doesn’t get any easier. In this case, I’m sure that point is only magnified. I just hope that by continuing to have them open up that I’m not causing more problems than being fixed. 

“This isn’t going to be pretty.”

The comment takes me back, a very odd thing to say in welcome, then again Kane is much one for pleasantries. 

#”What?”

“You said you didn’t have a schedule, that we pick what we share, correct?”

I nod and sneak a glance at the doctor, she wears the same confusion and maybe even a bit of fear.

“Then like I said, this isn’t going to be pretty.”

“ _ It’s probably a sick way to think, but It might have been fun, that is if nobody died. _ ”

The alarm went off, a shrill sound damningly loud at such an early hour. Every man sprung up from their fitful rests and jumped into their boots. Lining up by their bunks just like they’d been instructed. Any misstep and it was straight out to the yard, something their already bruised and even broken bodies couldn’t handle. “Good news kiddos,” the machine laughed. “You all get to play a game. It’s like hide n’ seek mixed with tag. Just like the good old days, right kiddos.” No one made a sound, standing at perfect attention beside their immaculate bunks, staring at the cadet across from them. “Not too chatty today are we, well I guess I’ll just have to go first.” The gun is raised and fired before anyone can even jump. Reynolds, a stick of a kid at only 19, goes down screaming. Something that looks like a dart firmly lodged his neck. “You’re it.” 

After that, a horde of SO’s file into the room with packs and armor in their hands. Each person gets one back and a special suit, from the looks of it Marcus, assumes it's for temperature control. Which means they’re going outside, which means not all of them are coming back. 

The last time a group went out, an entire new squadron had to be reaped. 

He kept that in mind going through his morning. Showering, he kept it icy cold not willing to risk lethargy from a hot spray. He ate as much food the cooks, and his stomach would allow him. When that was through, every minute of remaining time was spent with his weapons. Learning them, feeling them, becoming completely in tune with the advanced mechanics. He’d never really been fond of guns, but he’d been gone a month, and with each day the pieces of his old life had flaked away. This is who he was now, might as well embrace it. 

The alarm sounded again, and they all filed out one bunk after the next. From the device on his wrist, the time was 8 sharp, he’d been up for nearly 5 hours now. He’d sleep when this was over, one way or another. 

“You boys don’t talk much, you got some screws loose or something?” One of the SO’s asked, waving pistol near his head like it was nothing. “They’ve been ordered not to talk, you of all people should know how these things work.” Lasky barked from the front of the van. They’d all been loaded up in one of the same vehicles used for reapings, it gave most of his squadron chills, or at least made them squirm in their seats. To him, it was nothing. “Well, they’ll be excellent listeners. The aim of this game is simple, each player will have a chip located at the base of their neck, planted in the suit. The first player to collect all the chips wins.” Everyone’s hands shoot out to feel for the chip in their suits. It’s smooth metal and rounded, each one with a different design mirroring their callsigns. He has a small black triangle,  _ delta.  _ “You’ll be armed with Neuro pistols, just like the one’s Mecha demonstrated at 0400. As you probably already know, it hurts like a bitch so don’t get hit. Be warned though, your squadmates will not be the only opponents you face. The area has been chosen specifically to test you because that’s what this is. A test, if you fail I’d say death is a strong possibility. The elements will get to you when you least expect it. Mark my words.” With that, the vehicle lurches to a stop and the doors are thrown open. The last of them loaded in is the first thrown out into the cold. He catches a glimpse of Reynolds’ face before the doors shut, it’s pure terror.

The ride continues, he was the first to get on, he’ll be the last to get off. Every 10 or so minutes someone new gets shoved off. Each time they do he can hear the officers making predictions.

“Two meals he goes first.”

“I’ll put two on the other one. 

“He’s got a good chance...if he doesn’t get too cocky.”

He wants to know what they think of him. What his chances are. Mostly to prove them wrong but the tiniest bit of advice wouldn’t hurt. As expected he doesn’t get to, what’s unexpected is the fact he isn’t shoved from the vehicle like the others. Maybe complacents always get special treatment?  _ Maybe he’s different? _

These thoughts shatter as the sound of gunfire rips through the crisp morning air. They may not be lethal but nothing else is dialed back. It kicks, it burns, it smells and it’s  _ loud.  _

Shelter is the first word that comes to mind. He needs shelter, trying to hunt everyone down straight off the bat is foolish. Natural shelter, something that doesn’t require building because building requires energy and the more he can save the better. There are towering pines scattered along hillsides that slope up and up and…. _mountains._ It’s perfect, he can already see the indent of multiple caves not too far up the face. 

Along the hike, he collects anything he sees that’s useful, stuffing it all in the back that was thrown out after him. It can be sorted later, the cover of a few tree trunks isn’t nearly enough. 

Heat is next. A slightly more taxing endeavor but necessary. It wasn’t something covered very much in basic (On an actual mission they’d apparently have techsuits which regulated body temperature perfectly) but he’d spent every minute of free time after in sims honing in on basic survival skills. 

With a fire burning and tucked away in the corner to avoid suspicion, he emptied his pack. 

A small knife, good for making weapons or minor tasks.

An empty canteen; water was tomorrow’s top priority.

A short length of para cord; a good tourniquet if the need arose.

A small fire striker. He frowns looking at it, thinking of all the energy he wasted.

What was most intriguing was the full mag of .308’s. He assumed most of the other cadets if they’d all gotten the same things that is, would over look a magazine of rifle rounds without a rifle to fire them with. He could already name at least 10 different uses the gunpowder alone served.

He repacked everything and zipped the bag, stowing it away from the fire. The night was silent, save for the occasional chirp of a cricket or sinister bellow a prowling predator. It was oddly comforting, much preferred to the snoring of a cadet or creak of decades old bunks. He was swept up into a deep sleep much quicker than he’d thought possible.

 

/\/\/\/\

 

#“I’m sorry to interrupt, but they just  _ dropped  _ you in the middle of who know’s where to play war games?”

I really did try to save my questions for the end, but every single one of them was gnawing at me like a rabid animal. I just couldn’t take it. I was no soldier by any extent, but this just didn’t seem like the way to train someone to fight for you. 

“Yes, command had never been big on group mentality from the start. They wanted infiltrators. Group assassins if you will, single units that could slip in and take out enemy leadership and equipment and slip out undetected. The whole plan was to stop the invasion before it even got off the ground by just wiping out leaders.”

In theory, it seems like a good plan, It must have to them because they never really did come up with anything else. But I imagine this ‘enemy’ (I don’t declare groups enemies, I never have. I think the only true enemies lie in oneself but that’s another topic for another day,) being something like a hydra. Trying to cut off the head makes everything twice as bad. 

I take a glance over at the doctor, her hand is curled tightly in his. She’s never heard this before, I remind myself. Which would be a comforting thought if it wasn’t described as ‘Listening to the other half of your heart recount all the horrible things you’re country forced them to endure on a daily basis.’ Once again I hope this is doing more good than harm. 

_ “He was just lying there, covered in it. It was all over me too… there was nothing I could do.” _

Screams. Horrible, anguished, gut wrenching screams. That’s what woke him up. It sent him into a panic, blindly grabbing for anything to defend himself with; ruled by his racing heart. They stopped quickly, the forest returning to the calm of nature. 

He took much longer to settle. Only easing his grip on his weapon when the blood stopped rushing in his ears. Looking back at his shelter, Marcus decided he’d been idle long enough; thinking this was the most sleep he’d gotten in weeks.

Besides, whoever made those sounds could be a danger to him. Most of the cadets probably already had at least one chip secured. The longer he waited, the more likely it would be that he loses.

He stalked out of the cave, in a low crouch with his pistol drawn. Feeling more and more like he was in an actual fight for his life with each passing minute. 

Left.Check.Right.Check.Left.Check.Right.Check.

Check your surroundings. Be alert. Stay aware. See them before they see you. 

He does see them, or really him, first, but he wishes he didn’t. He knows those screams, the pitch of the voice. Knows who they belong to. 

He knows their laugh too.

Their smile.

Their whispered jokes and stupid grins.

_ He knows him. _

“H-hey….Kane.” He croaks, attempting a weak smile. Marcus kneels on the soft grass beside his friend. Pulling his beaten body closer, while assessing the damage. “Hey, Lawrence.”

His arm looks broken, there are gashes running down his chest, and  _ oh god  _ his leg. He’s missing half his leg, there’s blood pooling around him. _ Coating them both. _ Marcus watches it drip,  _ no spray _ , from the severed veins hanging out of the skin and sinew. Blindly, he reaches into his bag digging for the cord. He ties it into a tourniquet, ignoring the shout of pain. “Have that-t drink…. for me. At your w-wedding. Don’t f-forget.”

“No can do buddy, we’re having that drink together. Just like we said we would.” Lawrence shakes his head, moving his good arm to claw at something on his neck. There’s a small click as he pulls something out. “Let go, Kane. Let me go.”

/\/\/\/\

“I did, not that I wanted to, but he bled out in my arms anyway. Shoved his chip in my hands,  _ his was Theta, _ and just closed his eyes.”

There are a few tears sliding down my face. What a gruesome, useless death. It’s disgusting. That boy could’ve done so much more with his life than being slaughtered in a stupid game. 

The doctor’s face is buried deep in her husband’s shoulder, her own shaking softly. Kane opens his arms and she scoots closer. He gently wipes the tears off her face with his thumb, kissing her forehead. The light catches his face just right as he does this and I can see his cheeks glistening. 

I don’t normally add this in the notes, I’ve never really seen it as important, but I’m very apprehensive about what’s to come if this is only the first what? month of memories.

“Dr.Kane, is..is there anything you’d like to share.”

I hope she says yes, and pray that it’s something good. I’ve made the mistake of leaving things on a heavy note. I know it’ll stick with him for the rest of night. Although it’s really only a band-aid it’s better than nothing.

She simply nods, most likely collecting herself before diving into her memories. Pulling out bits and pieces, stitching them together, and plucking out whatever appeals most.

“ _ The day he met my family, oh you should’ve seen it. It was really something else. _

“Abby, honey. We’re so glad you’re back- oh who have you brought with you,” Her mother nearly shouts, throwing open the door. “You didn’t tell them I was coming.” Marcus hisses into the back of her neck before smiling and shaking her mother’s hand. If you wanted the truth, she hadn’t told her family about him because that would lead to questions. Lots and lots of questions she had no desire to answer. That was part of it, yes, but the other part was that things with Marcus felt different. They clicked easily and built off each other’s strengths. He made her feel safe and loved and she helped him to see that if he put his mind to it, he could do incredible things. Her family was a little...eccentric and she just...she just didn’t want to mess anything up. Now at 10 months and winter break finally arrived. They packed bags and she dragged them both away from campus for a hopefully peaceful Christmas with the family. 

Marcus steps out from behind her and extends his hand. “Marcus Kane, it’s lovely to finally meet you Mrs.Williams.” At the sound of a new male voice both her brother and father  _ magically _ appear at the door. Twin scowls on their faces. “You brought flowers,” her father says. “Abby’s allergic to tulips.” 

She resists the urge to roll her eyes, wishing men weren’t ridiculous. “Actually she’s allergic to Queen Anne’s Lace, or wild carrot if you will. It gives her hives if she’s around it too long.” Impressed but unrelenting her brother and father continue starring Marcus down. “He answered the question, can we go inside now?” Her mother,  _ bless her mother, _ shoes the boys to the side to let them pass. 

As Marcus goes to hang their coats, she drags the other men off to the side. Glaring daggers at them the entire time. “Do not,  _ I repeat _ .  **Do.Not.** Embarrass me or him. Marcus is a good man and I will not have you screw this up with your stupid test and ridiculous games.  _ Is this clear?” _

“Abigail,” her father tries but she cuts him off. “I am an adult, treat me,  _ and him _ , like it.” With one last hard look, she joins Marcus on the couch. Smiling as he and her mother talk excitedly about flowers a gardening. One of Marcus’ secret loves.

Soon enough, her father called from the kitchen announcing that dinner was ready. Marcus, a gentleman as always, pulled her chair out for her then sat down on the adjacent chair. Anthony tried to comment but she shot him a glare hard enough to have his mouth snapping audibly shut. 

_ Stupid protective older brother. _

“So tell me,  _ Marcus, _ what do you know about our little girl?” Both Abby and her mother repressed groans.

_ Stupid men and their stupid games! _

“Well, for starters, her favorite color is blue, but not dark blue or light blue, but the blue like you see in a sunset. When the sky is almost completely dark but not  _ quite  _ there yet. That blue…..she likes snow, but only a little. She hates the cold and always has the heat turned up or she’s covered in blankets. She’ll curl up with a good book over going out partying any day. She takes coffee with 1 sugar and this special cream you find at the coffee shop down on 5th. The one where all the seniors go to study. It’s expensive but I can’t  _ not _ get it for her. She’s kind, compassionate, smart as a whip and cool under pressure, and she has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.” Two forks clatter to the table as her father and brother’s mouths hang open. Smiling, Abby pats Marcus’ knee under the table before kissing his cheek. “Well, since you obviously know her so well. How long has she been keeping you a secret from us?”

_ She’s going to kill him. She’s really going to do it, leap over the table and just….ahhhhh! _

“I asked her to, don’t blame her. I was so worried that I wasn’t worthy of her that I didn’t want to do anything prematurely. It’s not her fault if anything you can blame me.”

“And do you think you are now?” Her father adds softly, clearly at least trying to respect her wishes. “I don’t think anyone ever could be, but I try my best.” There’s a level of sincerity in his voice that concerns her, but she saves that talk for another time. Choosing instead to very discreetly flip off her brother.

/\/\/\/\

The air has changed, and the laughs that had rung out as she told the story seemed to have moved everyone’s mind to happier places. I even caught Harper and Murphy listening from the cracked door, although I can’t tell which of them was crying.

#“I never took you for the sappy romantic”

“What can I say, she brings out the best in me.”

She kisses him and threads their fingers together. Wishing me a good night as I close up the session and wave as they exit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a good mix of cute and sad/deathy? Do I need to adjust the levels?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Any nations, people's, or basically anything depicted or described as an/a enemy are purely for plot purposes. I have no prejudices against any one of the nations or said nations/peoples as a whole. There is a lot of tension in this world, I 'm not here to add to it or make anyone feel as of they've been "Called out". If I do write something that is offensive or generally incorrect, please let me know so I can work to fix it.


End file.
